


See Me Through Another Day

by keptin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Away Mission Gone Wrong, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8116411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptin/pseuds/keptin
Summary: “What’s the team’s status?”A sigh, and a series of electronic beeps as Scotty got a lock on their signal. “I’m having trouble getting a lock on them,” he replied.Leonard couldn’t stop staring at the transporter pad, at the spot where, soon, three forms would materialize. He ground his teeth desperately, his hand gripping his bag so hard his knuckles were starting to lose circulation.“And the captain?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from [fire & rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3uaXCJcRrE) by james taylor  
> and yeah this is some time past st:id but it has occurred in the context of this fic

So far, the away team had been gone for three days, and normally this wouldn’t have been a source of concern if not for the fact that it was supposed to just be a treaty-signing. In and out, just like that. But today was day three, going on four, of the mission, and it had been radio silence ever since the team had beamed down. What was more worrying was that because it was classified as a diplomatic mission, the only equipment the team of six had beamed down with besides their comm badges had been Lieutenant Kaullor’s medical tricorder for just in case.

Leonard was beginning to think that this might be one of those cases.

Business was slow in the medical bay; they had just finished a week ago with a relatively minor charting mission on a small class K planet  with no known inhabitants.  _ That mission, at least, had gone well, _ Leonard thought, not without a hint of bitterness. Now the only patients were two Ensigns with colds.

“Go get some lunch, Len,” Nurse Chapel said, her voice coming from just behind him, jolting him from his thoughts and nearly from his chair.

“Jesus Christ-”

Chapel raised an eyebrow in a way that never failed to make him feel like he was under examination. He wished she didn’t pick up so well on things that made him uncomfortable.

“I’m on duty,” he reminded her once he’d collected himself. It was a weak protest. Chapel rolled her eyes.

“Alright, that wasn’t a question,” she said measuredly, “but I’ll say it again. Go get some lunch, Len.”

She knew that Leonard’s bitterness was a front for concern, so it meant something when he’d said almost nothing but sarcastic comments for the past couple of days. And he was wound tighter than one of those old-timey alarm clocks he preferred to the regulation chronos installed in every crewman’s quarters. Jim usually joked about him being a hard-ass, but right now that was more a façade than anything else.

Jim.

Jim was on the mission with the two Ensigns, as well as Lieutenant Sulu; “Why should I let a team go,” Jim often said, “on a mission I wouldn’t take, myself?”

“Yeah,” Leonard had told him on every occasion, “but that doesn’t mean  _ go on every single mission.” _

Try telling that to James T. Kirk, though. The man was stubborn as hell and had a protective streak a parsec wide, especially when it came to his crew. Even before he had gotten the official position as captain of the  _ Enterprise, _ he had made a point of learning the names and faces of each crewmember. Hell, he was also working on birthdays-- Leonard wondered if part of it was because of his thing about his own birthday, wanting to hear the “happy birthday” song and not feel uncomfortable at best and angry or depressed at worst.

“Len,” Chapel said again, her voice softening. He looked up at her from his desk, not putting down the PADD he was trying unsuccessfully to read. “Go get some lunch. I mean it, a hot meal would do you some good. Ch’toran and Inoue will still be here sneezing when you get back.”

“You know, we don’t really want them to still be doing that,” Leonard said, but pushed himself up from his chair, wincing as his knees, stiff from hours of sitting, straightened. Christine was right, he was grouchy from being worried and he hadn’t eaten since 0600, and a nice bowl of soup and a sandwich sounded pretty tempting right now.

_ “Away team to Enterprise.” _

Of course it couldn’t be that simple.

_ “Away team to Enterprise. Five to beam up. Have medical standing by at transporter room.” _

Leonard all but lunged over to the little console on the wall, his nose nearly touching the screen.  There was nothing but static on the other end before the channel fizzled and lost its connection. He felt Chapel’s eyes focusing like lasers on his back, but his vision had tunnelled so that the console on the wall was the only thing that existed in the world. Three days. He’d gone three days without any word about the away team.

And Jim.

“That wasn’t Jim’s voice,” he said, his eyes wide and dull and his mouth slightly ajar. He looked over his shoulder at Chapel; her face was set, her expression calm but for the slight furrow between her eyebrows and the pale area on her lower lip where she pinched it between her front teeth. “That  _ wasn’t Jim’s voice,” _ Leonard said again, his voice sounding more strained; he wanted to reach out and shake the console and demand it tell him what had happened on that goddamn planet.

“I know, Len,” Chapel told him, nodding once, trying to be the calm one here. “They called for medical. Let’s go to the transporter room so we’re there when they beam up.”

Leonard nodded, grabbing his bag and forcing himself not to break into a dead sprint as he hurried as fast as he could to the turbolift, Chapel and another nurse fast-walking behind him. He kept his focus straight ahead, moving like a juggernaut, crewmembers stepping quickly to the side as if afraid of being bowled over. The turbolift seemed to move an inch a minute, and once they reached engineering, Leonard was out and racing to the transporter room.  _ That wasn’t Jim’s voice. That’s wasn’t Jim’s voice. _

_ There were five to beam up and that wasn’t Jim’s voice. _

“Mr. Scott,” Chapel said somewhere behind him.

“Aye, Nurse.”

“What’s the team’s status?”

A sigh, and a series of electronic  _ beep _ s as Scotty got a lock on their signal. “I’m having trouble getting a lock on them,” he replied, punching a few more buttons with increased vigor with each unsuccessful attempt. “There’s some kind of interference, it’s like… a bunch of tiny little mirrors in the air, and I’m trying to shoot a laser pointer down to them without having it bounce off of anything.”

Leonard couldn’t stop staring at the transporter pad, at the spot where, soon, three forms would materialize. He ground his teeth desperately, his hand gripping his bag so hard his knuckles were starting to lose circulation, the static from the transmission still fizzling in his ears.

“And the captain?” he asked, not turning around. He heard Scotty inhale slowly.

“I can’t find his signal, Doctor,” he replied. “It’s not with the others, and I can’t seem to find it anywhere in a twenty kilometer radius, I’m sorry.”

It took all Leonard had not to lunge over the console and punch Scotty in the face. He whipped around, jaw squared and eyes wild and livid. Chapel and the other nurse both took a step back reflexively.

“What do you mean you can’t find his signal?” he barked. “They have comm badges for a reason! This-” He grabbed at the front of his uniform, pointing roughly at the little insignia on his chest- “is here so we  _ never have to fucking do this! _ Are you an engineer or not?”

Silence. The room rang with Leonard’s voice and with his heavy panting as he stood there, red-faced, his hand still fisted in his uniform shirt. Scotty looked a mixture of concerned and guilty, meeting Leonard’s eyes levelly. Thank god he was calm, though that was probably a front.

A long moment went by, the room incredibly, no one saying a word.

_ Jim, _ Leonard thought desperately.

Scotty pressed a button on the console.

“Transporter room to away team,” he said. “Ready when you are.”

_ “Get us out of here, Mr. Scott,”  _ Sulu’s voice cracked over the static. That was probably the interference; still, it didn’t make Leonard feel any better. His shoulders slumped gradually, the strap of his bag slipping, his back hunching forward so that he was curling in on himself, wilting. He wondered where Jim was. He wondered where they had left him-- where they had left his body. What had finally done it. If he had tagged along, would he have been able to prevent it?

Oh god, probably. The realization that this is it, Leonard had passed the last chance he had to talk to Jim, to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him that he loved him and to be careful, nearly sent him to the floor. He felt Chapel approach, pause at his side as if she was afraid he would fall over-- and he felt like he would, too. The last time he’d ever have to see Jim alive was three days ago and he’d wasted it. Jim had cracked a joke about bringing Leonard something from the gift shop, and he’d rolled his eyes at him. The transporter had fizzled to life, enveloping Jim’s form in a swirling, dissolving glow, and Leonard had rolled his eyes at him.

_ This is the second time, _ he realized with the sort of detached horror of someone with one foot in reality and the other foot in denial.  _ This is the second time he’s gone and the second time I didn’t say goodbye. And now there’re no more chances. _

“-ha!”

Scotty’s triumphant whoop shook Leonard from his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see the glowing shapes materialize on the transporter pad. His legs were moving almost before he told them to, carrying him forward to kneel beside the team.

“-him first, he needs it the most out of-”

That was Sulu’s voice, the same as from the transmission but without the crackling and fizzing that came with the interference. Hands on his shoulders, pushing him towards the crewman laying prone on the floor, chest heaving erratically. Running on autopilot, Leonard took out his medical tricorder, scanning them to figure out what was wrong and scan for any foreign matter in their body. A short spear of some sort was lodged in their side, the tip exiting just above their… human: kidney.

“-didn’t even notice until we got to higher ground, must’ve been-”

Sickly-grey lips parted, gulping in air like Scotty had beamed them out of a lake. Leonard administered a tri-ox hypo to the crook of the neck, and three seconds later the breath began to stabilize. Luckily either Chapel or the other nurse had had the good sense to bring a gurney with them, and he pushed gently on the gold-sleeved shoulder, rolling the limp figure over so he could get an arm under without worsening any injuries he might have missed.

“I-I…”

“Shh, we’re just gonna lift you up for a sec so we can get you to medbay, alright?” Leonard said gently as Chapel took hold of the legs.

“... ripped my shirt...”

“Sure you did, kid,” Leonard replied instinctively, before realizing with a pang that Jim wasn’t there. He’d never be there again, he’d never appear on the transporter pad again unless they sent another team down to recover his… recover his body-- Leonard’s shoulders shuddered as he held in a gasp-- and he’d never come back to him again.

_ I’ll never be Bones again. _

“-nes…”

“Doctor?”

That was Chapel’s voice, and Leonard looked up at her distractedly. He had been lost in thought, and it was unprofessional of him, especially when he had a member of the crew bleeding in his arms. Chapel gestured at them with her chin.

“He’s trying to talk to you,” she pointed out, and for the first time Leonard realized the number of stripes on the tattered sleeve that remained. The little constellation of scars on the kid’s right cheekbone. The snatches of electric blue iris he could see peering from half-lidded eyes.

The whole left half of the shirt that had been torn away, comm badge and everything.

“Jim.” The word came out all on its own, a breath of air, a slap on the back, a punch in the gut.  _ “Jim,” _ he said again, like this time he was the one laying on the transporter room floor with an arrow sticking out of his side and half his shirt gone. A tired smile curled at one corner of the captain’s lips.

“‘Ey… Bones…” he said softly. The backs of Leonard’s eyes prickled and he felt his nose redden, and he forced himself to lift Jim right at that moment because if he waited any longer his eyes would flood and his eyesight would go to shit and the adrenaline would wear off and he’d be wobbly as hell. Jim winced, hissing as he was lifted, and Leonard wished he had more than two arms so that he could cup his face, stroke his cheek, brush sweaty hair from where it stuck to his forehead…

“It’s alright, kid,” he said instead, his voice low, for Jim’s ears only.

“I know.”

“You’re here.”

“I know.”

“You’re he-”

“B’nes.”

Leonard’s expression slackened, and he and Chapel got Jim settled on the gurney.

“‘M okay,” Jim told him. “‘M here. ‘M… okay…”

Then his eyes slipped closed and he slipped off with a soft sigh. Leonard whipped out his tricorder, nearly throwing it across the room in the process, and sank against the gurney in relief when it showed that Jim was only unconscious, that his breathing was normalizing thanks to the tri-ox but that they still had the wound to deal with. But he was breathing, and his heart was beating, and just a few minutes ago that had been more than Leonard could have even asked for. He would have traded anything he had to give for less than this. He would have sold his soul just for Jim’s body back.

Somehow they all made it to the medbay; Leonard wasn’t entirely sure how they had gotten there, and they could have been beamed there for all he knew. Time seemed to melt into itself, the only marker Jim’s pulse thrumming where he pressed his fingers to Jim’s wrist bare wrist. He had been all but useless to help, afraid that if he took his hands off of Jim for a second that he would melt away, that he would never have been beamed back, that he’d be dead on that planet somewhere and Leonard would have wasted his last chance. But Jim was safe now. The arrow was out of his side, the wound patched up and on its way to healing, and he was in a soft white-and-blue patterned shift, resting in a biobed. The few thin cuts on his face and arms-- all the members of the away team had them from where thorny branches had scratched them as they ran to higher ground-- were mostly gone now thanks to the dermal regenerator, and his face was peaceful.

“Goddammit, Jim,” Leonard said, sitting on a chair he’d pulled up beside Jim’s bed, running his free hand down his face. The other hand was wrapped gently around Jim’s wrist, two fingers pressing against his pulse. It was still there, a soft, steady beat. Leonard sighed raggedly. “Dammit, Jim,” he said again.

“Y’ seem to say that to me a lot,” a quiet voice breathed. Jim had one eye open, the other following suit unevenly; he blinked a few times, yawned, winced. His two cracked ribs were still healing under a mini-osteoregenerator, and deep breaths were going to hurt for a little bit longer. At the last minute, Scotty had just decided to lock onto any organic lifeform within the bounds of the polygon formed by the comm badges of the rest of the away team; it had been a gamble, but it had worked, and Leonard was immeasurably grateful.

“Yeah, well.” Leonard sighed, adjusting his hold on Jim’s wrist, bringing his hand up to press a kiss against the back of it. “For good reason.”

That made Jim smile, a stronger version of that gentle little smile he’d given Leonard in the transporter room, and Leonard couldn’t help but return it.

“The rest of the team?” Jim asked. “How’re they?”

“They’re fine,” Leonard assured him. “All patched up and ready to return to their stations tomorrow. They said to tell you get well soon, and that ‘get well soon’ doesn’t mean ‘decide you’re better when you’re really still healing and try to make a grand escape’.”

“Ah, damn,” Jim laughed, then hissed as it shifted his ribs. Leonard’s smile dimmed gradually, and he brought Jim’s hand up again, just resting his lips against it, holding it there against his mouth. It was a very long while before either of them spoke again.

“I thought you’d died.”

Jim looked up, but he didn’t look surprised. He gave a slight nod, watching Leonard’s face carefully; for what, he didn’t know.

“When Sulu said… five to beam up, and have medical waiting for us, I thought, ‘This is it, Jim’s gone, I’ve lost him for forever this time and nothing I do will ever get him back.’”

“Bones-”

“I had to push that aside so that I could go to the transporter room. They needed me, whoever was left of the team needed medical attention, and even though I was in tatters I’m still a doctor, I still needed to be there and do my job.”

This time, Jim didn’t try to reply, and Leonard was grateful. Instead, Jim gave his hand a squeeze, and he dragged in a shaky breath, running his other hand through his hair.

“I was a fucking mess. I nearly decked Scotty, and then I could barely think for the grief. Jim, I- fuck, Jim, I mourned you for the second time in that room. I honestly, truly thought you had died, and that I’d never see you again. That the last time I saw you had been the last time, and this time I didn’t even get to grieve a body, and-”

He broke off suddenly, his breath stopping in his throat and then starting again, stopping and starting, a stuck record. He bit his lower lip, shaking his head.

“-and that I hadn’t even said goodbye, Jim,” he choked out, his throat closing up on him. “I shoulda learned from last time, you know? I shoulda… I let you go off to die and I hadn’t held you enough or kissed you enough or made sure you know how fucking much I love you, Jim, from the bottom of my heart, I do, I-”

“Bones,” Jim said softly. Leonard looked at him, his expression pinched, tears swimming in his eyes and falling softly down his cheeks, his mouth contorted into something ugly that he could barely speak though. But Jim’s expression was patient and gentle.

“Bones,” he said, “you’re shaking.”

And, god, he was. He looked down at his hands, found one around Jim’s wrist and the other fisted in the sheets, both trembling like leaves in a storm. He let out a breath, all at once.

“‘S okay,” Jim said. “‘S okay, Bones.”

“I know.”

“‘M here.

“I know.”

“You believe me?” Jim asked, reaching out with his other hand and gently uncurling Leonard’s fingers from the blanket so that they were sitting, both holding both each other’s hands. Leonard sighed.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah.”

Jim smiled. “You sure?” he asked. “Because I can think of a few ways to prove to you pretty definitively how here I am.”

“You’ve got two cracked ribs and M’Benga pulled a stick out of your side five hours ago,” Leonard said, rolling his eyes. But then… guilt struck him like a lightning bolt, and he leaned forward to kiss Jim’s forehead. Jim crossed his eyes to watch him do it, and he dropped another between Jim’s eyebrows.

“Want to make sure I do that enough this time,” he said in explanation, and Jim’s expression softened. “I… had some time to think some things today.”

“And?”

Another kiss, this time to Jim’s cheek, while his hand cupped the other. “Haven’t done this quite as much as I want,” he answered.

“Well, I’d have to agree,” said Jim.

“‘Course you would.”

He tipped Jim’s chin up to kiss him, smile against smile.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on the [timbles](http://ocdjimkirk.tumblr.com).


End file.
